


The three times Patrick Stump accidentally used his powers and the one time he didn't

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:56:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3659685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick had always known that he was different. From a young age, he became aware that his “abilities” weren’t quite deemed the norm. At first he was upset by his difference, but when he came crying to his parents about his abnormality, they showed him how they were different too and how it had lead them to happiness and after that he didn’t cry about it anymore. </p>
<p>FOR TUMBLR USER AMERICANBEAUTYAMERICANPYSCHO'S 18TH BIRTHDAY</p>
            </blockquote>





	The three times Patrick Stump accidentally used his powers and the one time he didn't

Patrick had always known that he was different. From a young age, he became aware that his “abilities” weren’t quite deemed the norm. At first he was upset by his difference, but when he came crying to his parents about his abnormality, they showed him how they were different too and how it had lead them to happiness and after that he didn’t cry about it anymore.   
He was, however, still painfully aware that he wasn’t normal and that he had to hide it. This proved very difficult very fast as he started school. Whenever he was angry or sad or excited at home, he was free to let out his emotions by flying fast around the house or blowing things up. This wasn’t an option at school.

The first time, Patrick was 15 years old and he had just got a test result back. It was a Wednesday and sometime in October. It was raining stupidly hard and Patrick focused on the pounding sound of it against the window instead of the droning voice of his ancient, spindly French teacher who kind of looked like a spider.   
Two nights before he had strained his eyes to study into the early hours of the morning because he was miserably failing French. It had been three am before the “je suis”’s and reflexive verbs began swimming circles in his eyes and he had to call it quits.  
He had woken up feeling dead and took ibuprofen for a headache before skipping breakfast and running for the bus.  
But there he was, at his desk and there it was – also at his desk – with a scarlet F glaring out of the paper like a brand of failure.   
He almost didn’t notice at first – the buzzing had almost become second nature to him and he barely noticed his hands beginning to get hotter. It was so familiar that it almost comforted him, made him feel better about all the shitty errors he had made on the paper.   
Only when the paper began blackening because of the flames did he remember that his desk was made of wood.   
Five minutes later and he was standing in the rain outside soaked to the bone, the last of the embers from his finger extinguished by the downpour.  
He was never caught but he did catch his parent’s suspicious eyes when he told them about the school’s freak fire over dinner. 

The second time was the first band practise he sang for Fall Out Boy. Granted, they didn’t have a name at the time but the spirit was there and when Patrick looked back he felt like they were Fall Out Boy and not just some kids making noise in their parents garage.   
The thing is, Patrick was really, really pumped for singing and was a little bit over excited about creating sound that didn’t involve getting a sore arse from sitting down behind a kit for two hours on end.   
In hindsight, he should have noticed from the fact that he buzzed a little at the prospect of the whole idea, but he was never one for noticing the little things.   
When they started playing his feet began buzzing a little bit extra, and when he really got into it he began to slowly rise a few feet off the ground. Startled by Pete’s pretty unmanly shriek, (“Fuck off, I’m way more macho that you Stump” was Pete’s response when Patrick asked him about it later) he opened his eyes to see that Pete wasn’t eye level, but about knee level. He quickly shot back down to Earth, about to explain, when Pete’s fist collided with his face.  
Pete told him several times when looking for an icepack for Patricks swollen nose that he thought he was being “possessed or something” and that he was obviously the better man out of him, Andy and Joe because he was protecting the band from an otherworldly demon like a bassist should.   
Patrick suddenly remembered why Pete was his favourite. 

The third time was when fall out boy was just hitting off and he was waiting in the line to get Starbucks. It was 3 am and he was really fucking tired but he somehow managed to pull himself out of the hotel bed and drag himself down three flights of stairs – the lift wasn’t working and he reckoned he needed the exercise. Patrick figured he managed to do this because of the lure of caffeine which he hadn’t been able to experience for nine days because Joe broke the coffee machine in the bus.   
So at least Patrick had an excuse this time. He was sleep deprived and wasn’t caffeinated.  
Anyway, he got to the front of the line and completely forgot that it was rude to read peoples thoughts. To be honest, it wasn’t his fault, the thoughts kept jumping into his head – it wasn’t like he could turn the filter on when he was this tired.  
Which is why he started replying to them.  
Oh my God, is that Patrick Stump?  
“Yes, that is me.”  
What does his hat say? Let me just get the right angle to read it… um…  
“It says “I love bingo”. Which I don’t by the way, Pete thought it would be hilarious. I don’t think it it.”  
What. Is he reading my mind.  
“um.”  
Long story short, Patrick ended up outside Starbucks, with his coffee, without his bingo hat, a teaspoon of worry that the kid working the night shift for Starbucks would leak stories of his lack of normality and feeling really, really cold. 

And then was the time he didn’t use them by accident. It was the first time fall out boy performed after the hiatus and he was buzzing like crazy as they got on stage, but this time Patrick noticed it.   
“Pete… I keep buzzing. I-, I can’t do this”  
“What are you talking about?”   
Pete had given him such an incredulous look when he said that. It was the same look Pete gave him any time he put himself down. It was the look that said “shut up, you dweeb. You’re amazing and are totally worth it.” Patrick loved that look.   
“I can’t control it. I can never control it when we perform, you know that.”  
“When has that ever stopped you?”  
When Patrick performed that night, he didn’t need to make his audience think they were seeing a good show. He didn’t even think about it either. When he performed that night, he felt welcomed, and needed, and he felt a different kind of buzzing. A buzzing that meant belonging.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 18th, Caroline!


End file.
